Playoff hockey, it occurred to me Saturday evening while sharing a confined space with a mix of colleagues and strangers turned friends, is kind of like getting stuck in an Enterprise Center elevator.
In the end, the only thing that really matters is emerging victorious.
The Blues did just that in Saturday’s preview of their first round of the Stanley Cup playoffs, and I’m proud to say the 11 of us who spent nearly two hours — it was 1:47 to be exact, as timed by the watch of Post-Dispatch teammate Tom Timmermann — can say the same thing on our end.
Yes, the Blues somehow squandered a three-goal lead in the third period and wound up tied at the end of regulation before beating Minnesota 6-5 in overtime.
And yes, right around the time you all were trying to wrap your heads around how that happened, a good chunk of the media members who were headed back up to the press box to try to write about how it happened were wondering, collectively, why the freight elevator used for express trips between the press box and the bowels of the arena got to the top, then stopped, with the doors opening no more than a sliver.
Suddenly the Blues softening their chance to really put their skate down fully on the opponent they are almost guaranteed to meet in the first round seemed like a less important topic than … um, help?
I wanted to try to go through the elevator’s ceiling panel. Well, I wanted someone to try to go through the elevator’s ceiling panel. But Timmermann, who knows more about random things than anyone else in the world, informed us that’s usually the decision that leads to stuck-in-elevator injuries. Apparently, the movies are not realistic. The Tom Cruise plan was out.
So, we waited.
And waited.
And waited.
We laughed a lot. We cracked cryptic jokes. Curses were uttered. Jeremy Rutherford of The Athletic played Aerosmith’s “Love in an Elevator” on his phone. Post-Dispatch teammate Jim Thomas sent text updates to his sons, who found our situation humorous, understandably so. NHL.com writer Lou Korac played it cool, never even loosening the knot of his tie. Associated Press writer Joe Harris was sweating, and understandably so. He was counting down the hours until a hard-earned vacation. We got to know the folks who had joined us in our shared predicament. Some were fans who had enjoyed the game. Some were employees headed home. We decided we should all get together again next year on this day, with T-shirts that celebrate our anniversary. Where? Anywhere but an elevator.
Our fearless leader, it should be noted in the paper of record, was veteran elevator operator, Mary. This was not Mary’s first rodeo. But this was, she confirmed, a career-high amount of time she has spent in a stuck one. Mary is a saint. She deserves a big raise. She kept us informed, thanks to her radio. She kept us calm, which was needed, especially when the elevator started to lurch and beep.
At first we were stuck on floor four, with a little crack between the doors that showed us where we wanted to go but could not. We could see men on the other side trying to help. They had a wrench, or was it a hammer? It was hard to see through that little crack. We could see them studying the control panel of the other elevator across the way. Then they disappeared. We were informed, thanks to Mary’s radio, that guys from the elevator company were on their way. It was after they arrived when the beeping and lurching started. Not great. But we had Mary. She told us it was better for the elevator company crew to move us down to the event level, where this whole mess started. We got stuck again briefly between floors four and three. Then we were down. Then the crack became a gap. Then the gap became glorious freedom.
What a night.
Oh yeah, what to write?
The thing about being stuck on an elevator is that there are phases. First, it’s kind of funny. Then it’s kind of scary. Then it’s kind of maddening. Then it’s kind of panicky.
Our group of 11 was somewhere between the funny and scary phase when someone in the back of the elevator brought up their favorite moment from the game.
It was my favorite moment, too.
Not to be lost in the goals or the lead that was squandered and then reclaimed by Brayden Schenn’s overtime game-winner was Ivan Barbashev proving the postseason-bound Blues are postseason-ready.
It came late in the second period, after Pavel Buchnevich sent a message to the Wild. He leveled Minnesota’s Tyson Jost with a clean but crushing blow to the ribs, one that made you wince as you watched. Nicolas Deslauriers took offense, and gave chase for Buchnevich, foreshadowing his pursuit with a thrust of his stick. Barbashev noticed and took off chasing Deslauriers until he was close enough to fling himself at Deslauriers’ back and rip his helmet from his head. Chaos ensued. No punches. None needed. But plenty of pushing and fighting and protecting of teammates. Playoff stuff.
“They’re a big team, they’re a tough team, and they have guys that are willing to fight” Schenn said after his game-winner. “It’s nice to see our guys have each other’s backs.”
The Blues are back in the postseason for the fourth time in a row and for the 10th time in the last 11. This edition can score in waves. Their penalty kill and power play units are among the best in the league. They seem to have Minnesota’s number, too, but the Wild cannot be taken lightly. Saturday proved that. The Blues’ defense is questionable, and Saturday proved that too, but beyond defense this team must continue to prove it can produce playoff-level grit. The Blues flashed some of that Saturday, and emerged with a win, which is the most important thing moving forward.
That was memorable — even after nearly two hours stuck in an elevator.
